


Five Times Derek Is Confused and the One Time Derek Discovers Stiles's Wireless Vibrator

by Delta_Immortal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Public Masturbation, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sexual exploration, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vibrators, Voyeurism, public grinding, wireless vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delta_Immortal/pseuds/Delta_Immortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It looks like a seizure, Stiles falling down and twitching and writhing on the floor. His limbs are shaking, his body trembling, but afterwards Stiles always tells him it isn't a seizure. Derek isn't so sure. If it's not a seizure, what could it be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Derek Is Confused and the One Time Derek Discovers Stiles's Wireless Vibrator

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Steamcraft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steamcraft/gifts).



> Request from Steamcraft: "knotting, submissive-yet-I'm-gonna-talk-back-Stiles, helluvalot of grinding and gyrating and hip rolling oh my god, marking, sweet and slow riding, ustustust galorrrre, and like, everything else. Like vibrators. I like to read vibrators."
> 
> I forgot the knotting. I'm sorry. Too focused on the vibes. UST is also a bit short. For the purposes of this fic, Derek is a human and has been for a while. :/
> 
> All characters in this fic are over 18 and everything is consensual, even if they don't ask first.

Stiles has been shifting this entire night. It’s maddening. He moves slowly, his torso trembling as he tries to stay still, his hips rocking back and forth, sometimes front and back. They’re always little minute, aborted movements, too, like Stiles is afraid someone would notice. 

Well, the only one noticing is Derek. Scott is pointedly looking at the TV, seated on the floor next to Stiles. Derek sits behind them both, though instead of the TV he’s watching Stiles shift around. The way Stiles will sometimes arch his back, or shudder- Derek can’t help it if he’s picturing Stiles on his cock, can he? 

He’s tried before to picture Stiles on his cock. He's spent all night thinking about it. But those were sad fantasies compared to what Stiles was doing now. And Derek's tried to avoid thinking about it, but once he’s pictured Stiles doing those moves on his cock it’s really hard not to picture anything but.

Derek’s glad the fan is blowing his scent away from Scott. Derek may no longer be a wolf, but he still instinctually knows Scott would be glaring at him if he could smell Derek’s hard on from here, just by watching Stiles.

The human bites his lip a little, and Derek licks his own in response. He watches, body tense and heated as Stiles moves one hand to the front of his pants- he’s touching himself. Derek’s not wrong about this being sexual. The way his fingers brush over his cock, Stiles is adjusting himself. He’s hard. 

Derek wants to know why. And maybe if he can make that happen, if he’s honest with himself.

Hoping a louder volume will keep his mind away from the image of crawling up behind Stiles and biting the side of his neck while his hands trail downwards, Derek grabs the remote and points it at the screen. That sort of thinking won’t help him here. Stiles and Scott just saved his ass from an omega. They’re hanging out here just in case it comes back for revenge. Derek needs to be grateful, not perverted. 

It’s hard not to be perverted when Stiles’s mouth opens in a pleading, silent “O”. 

Derek wants to lick those lips. He wants to run his tongue all along the rim of that mouth, along Stiles’s teeth, inside Stiles’s mouth. Maybe he’d use his finger, let Stiles get it wet and sloppy, preparation for something-

The button isn’t helping the volume any. The remote must be dead. 

Scott turns. Derek freezes, afraid he’s been caught, but Scott isn’t glaring at him. He’s glaring at Stiles. 

“You promised,” Scott hisses. Stiles opens his mouth to protest, but what comes out are a lewd moan and a sheepish look that go straight to Derek’s cock. “Ugh. I can’t do this anymore. Have fun, Derek. Stiles. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

With that, Scott leaves the room. 

Derek is close to panicking. He’ll _touch_ Stiles if Scott leaves. He’ll turn that body over, run his cock all over Stiles’s backside before thrusting in, taking his sweet time. He shouldn’t be left alone without supervision. 

Stiles waves goodbye to Scott and turns to Derek. “No big-“ he stops, his breathing coming heavy and deep. Sweat drips down his flushed skin and his eyes are blown wide. Maybe this isn’t hardness. Maybe something’s wrong.

Immediately Derek comes off the sofa and kneels next to Stiles on the floor. Part of him pretends it’s for Stiles’s well-being and safety, but the reality is he wants to try and get closer, to maybe take a touch of Stiles’s heated skin and remember it for his cock in the lonely bedroom later, thinking of what could have been. 

“Are you alright?” Derek asks, using the remote in his hand to hit the mute button. 

Stiles keens, arching. His legs widen as he takes giant, gasping breaths, his hips rocking, as if the human is trying to find friction. From the corner of his eye Derek can just barely make out the cock straining at the front of Stiles’s pants. He swallows.

Derek stays next to his side, unsure if Stiles is having a… seizure, or if hard-ons were normal for seizures, but his eyes watch Stiles as the man gasps, his fingers digging into the floor. Another cry escapes past those red lips and Stiles’s eyes roll back as his body convulses, the front of his pants getting wet. 

Derek is quite sure now that Stiles is seizing. Stiles even managed to piss himself. He jumps up, leaving the remote on the floor and runs for his phone when he hears, “I’m fine, Derek.” 

The voice sounds run-through and debauched, like he’s just finished a hard round of sex, and Derek shuts his eyes, glad Stiles can’t see Derek’s hardon. Because only a creep gets off on someone having a seizure, right? 

“You had a seizure,” Derek argues, the phone in his hand. 

“Promise I didn’t,” Stiles replies, sounding stupid and happy and lazy. Derek trusts the tone of voice. “Man, that was great.” Derek looks over at Stiles, who has the remote in his hand, a stupid grin over his face. “I’m going to sleep now.” 

“The movie’s half-over,” Derek asks, confused, and Stiles nods in agreement and drifts off. That’s a bad sign. Sleeping after a seizure is a terrible sign.

Derek isn’t sure what just happened, but he calls Scott. Scott assures him Stiles is fine and tells Derek thanks for being dense.

It doesn’t make Derek feel any better.

 

***

 

Derek and Stiles are at Deaton’s clinic when it happens again. Derek is playing around with mountain ash (it’s strange, touching something that once could pin him down and entrap him), running the ashes through his fingers, running a digit around the rim of the jar. 

Apparently it’s too much for Stiles, who groans in exasperation and throws himself back in Deaton’s plush chair, pulling out the remote to his music player again. He turns the volume up high, and soon he’s moving his body lewdly with the beat. 

Derek stares at him, moving himself subtly so he can watch Stiles move away in the chair. He pretends to be interested in the glass, running his finger around the rim, up and down, but the truth is he’s watching Stiles’s movements. The human is doing all those new dance moves- flailing, sudden body movements, sudden stillness, and twerking, if his butt is any indication. All the while he’s mouthing lyrics terribly, lips still singing “oh”. 

Derek isn’t sure what kind of music that is. Any song nowadays has an “oh” sound. 

Stiles’s eyes fall on Derek’s hands, and he adjusts the volume even higher. His body jerks-

-Another seizure. 

Derek runs to Stiles’s side, hauling him to the desk. Stiles nearly goes rigid as Derek forces him flat, trying to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. Stiles’s legs don’t seem to want to get with the program. They’ve wrapped themselves around Derek’s hips, a lewd gesture that Derek can’t focus on right now. Even if he accidentally slams his pelvis into Stiles’s trying to get Stiles’s hands out of his jacket and onto the desk. 

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes, his eyes half-hooded and mouth open. His body keeps jerking for a moment until he wets himself, and Derek stands very confused, but he’s pretty sure Stiles didn’t just have a seizure. 

Or wet himself.

If he’s completely honest with himself, he thinks Stiles just came in his pants, driven by Derek forcing him to Deaton’s desk. He can’t ask questions, though, because Stiles suddenly looks ashamed and sits up on the desk, awkwardly making them face to face. 

“Not a seizure?” Derek asks him softly. 

“Ah, no,” Stiles assures him. “I didn’t think you were watching this time.” He looks so sheepish, so embarrassed. Derek’s not ashamed to admit that’s a completely different fantasy with Stiles.

Pulling himself away from his perverted thoughts, Derek leans down to look Stiles square in the eye. “Are you alright?” he demands. When Stiles nods, he nods and backs away. Not a seizure, he tells himself. 

He can use that for fantasy later.

“I have a spare set of pants in the camaro, if you want them,” he offers. Stiles nods, face red and embarrassed.

 

***

 

They’re stuck in the library when Stiles does the thing again. Derek watches as Stiles is looking over maps, hips up from the chair and moving around slightly. It takes Derek aback, but he figures he can either call attention to it or keep it for his fantasies later.

He choses to keep it for later.

There’s a remote on the desk in front of Stiles, next to the map Stiles is currently studying. Derek watches Stiles’s forearm slide across the table, watches his long fingers press down onto the remote as Stiles taps a button. Derek assumes it’s for Stiles’s music player. Derek’s close enough to hear a “That’s the one” escape Stiles’s lips, and the human’s pelvis seems to circle as if he’s looking for friction. 

What kind of friction, Derek doesn’t know, but he’s suddenly very interested in that remote. Three times isn’t a coincidence.

He takes a couple of steps closer, now sure Stiles isn’t having a seizure but rather doing something sexual, though he’s not sure what it is. “Did you find it?” he asks, watching how Stiles jerks up and jerks his hips forward from the first movement. 

“Oh, hi,” Stiles rambles, his voice breaking just a little. “Creeper wolf just coming up behind people, just-“ 

Derek places a hand on Stiles’s back. “Trying to be friendly,” he lies. He’s trying to feel what Stiles might feel like in arousal, what he might feel pressed against Derek in bed. It’s not like he’ll ever have Stiles any other way. 

“You looked like you were having a seizure again,” Derek informs him, “but last time it wasn’t a seizure, so I wasn’t sure if I should call the parameciums again.” 

“Paramedics,” Stiles corrects automatically, shaking his head to clear himself of whatever state of arousal he’s in. He touches a button on the remote and seems to calm just a little bit. Derek makes a mental note to get his hands on that thing, since it seems to produce such beautiful fodder for his spank bank. “No, I’m not having a seizure. Just wanted-“ Stiles’s voice cuts off. “I’m fine,” he finishes. 

“You didn’t look fine,” Derek replied. “You looked like you were grinding up against the world’s biggest cock.” 

Stiles blushes and looks away, and Derek wonders if he caught Stiles practicing his moves during sex. “Don’t worry about it,” he says quickly. “We all do it,” he continues, remembering how much he used to practice _kissing_ , let alone how he used to practice positions and movements for his stamina. 

“We all practice for the world’s biggest cock?” Stiles asks, smirking. He looks up at Derek, his eyes twinkling with some sort of challenge. 

Derek looks at him. “You’re going to keep doing this, aren’t you?” he asks flatly. 

“You bet,” Stiles replies, sliding the remote in his pocket. “Since you seem so _interested_ in what I’m doing. And no, it’s probably not for the world’s _biggest_ cock.” 

That sounds like a slight on his dick somehow, but Derek can’t quite state why. 

 

***

 

The next time Derek is alone with the remote both he and Stiles are in the jeep. Stiles sighs, looking back behind them. “I suppose we’ll have to take off soon,” he mutters. “I hate Dinner and Poker night. I hate picking your ass up more,” he finishes, glaring at Derek. 

It’s not Derek’s fault he crashed the camaro. It _wasn’t._

But Derek isn’t bothered with that now, not when what he’s been hoping to find for the past couple of days is sitting right in front of him. He keeps the remote in the cup holder in his vision while he looks at Stiles. Luckily, the human doesn’t notice.

“Something you want to say?” Stiles snaps. He glares at Derek. “Use your words, Derek.”

There’s a moment of silence, where Derek thinks about all the things he could say. Most of them are, “What does this remote do?” or “Give me this remote” or “I wanna sex you up and watch your face as you come again”. 

In the end, it’s easier this way, grabbing the keys from the ignition and throwing them into the back of the jeep. 

“Hey!” Stiles yells, turning to the back to try and see where his keys have fallen. “In case you didn’t notice, asshole, we’re _using_ those!”

Derek shrugs. Stiles continues to glare at him. 

Stiles is the one who breaks first. “Go get it,” he demands, slamming his hands on the wheel for emphasis. He’s _pissed_. 

Derek makes no movement. Instead he sits there blankly, waiting for Stiles to give in.

They hold that position for a couple of minutes. Eventually, like Derek supposed, Stiles gives in. “Fine,” he utters. “You’d think being human would give you some manners.” He unbuckles his seatbelt, climbing into the back.

He doesn’t quite make it all the way, his ass up in the air and caught between the seats. It wiggles as he tries to squirm farther in. For a moment Derek wants to pet it, but then remembers the remote. It’s more important he knows what the remote does. Besides, it’s possible… it’s a growing possibility that Stiles _wants_ Derek to pet his ass. 

Derek isn’t sure yet. But it’s possible all of this is an awkward attempt from Stiles at flirting. 

Remote. Derek quickly reaches for it, pulling it out of the cup holder. Stiles’s ass shifts again, one of his legs going up into the air. Unashamedly he stars at Stiles’s ass in those tight jeans and he hits the on button. 

The way Stiles’s body reacts could fill all of Derek’s future fantasies. His muscles tighten and relax immediately, his butt suddenly engaging and flexing. 

“Of course you did,” Stiles utters from the back of the jeep. Panic fills through Derek- what if Stiles demands the remote back? “Well sorry, Derek, I’m going to look for my keys. I’m not going to entertain-“ 

Derek presses the volume higher, ears ringing at Stiles’s moan. His hips are moving back and forth again, rocking against the seats they’re stuck between. The possibility of this being sexual has gone up. Derek still isn’t completely sure, though. But if he’s been watching Stiles… get off, then Derek… 

His thoughts short circuit just a little. 

Later Derek will blame his lack of thinking, but for right now he wants to know what Stiles might feel like underneath him. Tentatively he reaches a hand upwards and presses it lightly against Stiles’s ass. When Stiles rubs back against him, he digs his fingers in, trying to feel past the jeans. Stiles lets out a groan and starts rubbing against his hand in ernest.

“What is this, exactly?” Derek asks, his remote hand hitting the “track” section. “Your walkman? Why do you always rock back and forth when you listen to music?” 

He moves his hand a little higher, a little closer to inside Stiles’s butt.  

Stiles’s ass follows, trying to aim Derek’s hand where Stiles wants him. Derek blushes as he realize what Stiles looks like- like this, with his hips caught in the seats, Stiles looks like a bitch presenting in heat. He looks like he wants to get _mounted_ , like he wants someone with Derek’s cock to come up behind him and start fucking his hole. 

The shame Derek feels at thinking these thoughts about Stiles goes out the window when Stiles mutters, “Oh fuck yes, Derek, right _there_.” 

Derek digs in with both hands, squeezing the globes of Stiles’s ass, listening to the human moan in the front seat. 

It _is_ sexual. All of this is sexual. It’s the best knowledge in the world right now, knowing that Stiles wants him. He continues kneading Stiles’s ass, mesmerized by the way Stiles tries to swing his weight from one hand to the other.

“Derek,” Stiles breathes, begs. Derek lets Stiles go for a moment and reaches for the remote with his right hand, his left sliding underneath Stiles’s crotch to the front of his pants. He squeezes what he knows are Stiles’s balls slightly as he turns the volume on the remote all the way up. 

Stiles nearly screams as he comes. Derek knows that’s what it is now. It’s not a seizure, it’s not some sickness. It’s Stiles’s body when he tenses up and releases everything. He revels in the way Stiles’s body clenches, how his thighs lock his hand in place, rubbing against him ever so slightly to drag out the last of his orgasm. 

After a moment Stiles stops, breathing heavily. 

Derek feels like Stiles has stolen all the air from the car. He’s not sure what this is, what’s changed between them, but he knows they’ve crossed a line and he knows somehow their relationship has changed. 

“Found them,” Stiles acknowledges, holding the keys up high. He scrambles back into his seat, stealing the remote from Derek’s free hand.

Derek still doesn’t know what that remote does. 

 

***

 

They made it to dinner in time. Scott and Lydia are giving them strange looks. Liam looks like he wants to kill somebody, but he doesn’t say anything. Kira waves them over, welcoming them to their booth. 

“Took you long enough,” she says, and Lydia raises her eyebrows in judgement like she knows. But she doesn’t know anything. Hell, Derek doesn’t even know what’s going on. Liam slides out of the booth and Stiles slides in, and Derek hurries in after him. It’s tight, and Stiles is squished up against the wall. 

Derek opens his mouth but Lydia cuts him off. “You’re fine,” she practically commands. 

They’re not fine, Derek thinks as they look over menus. Stiles is shifting back and forth, trying to get comfortable. Derek is keenly aware of Stiles’s soft skin as the human runs his fingers down the drink menu, in some sort of strange flirtation that goes straight to Derek’s cock. He’s not really sure what’s happening, but there might be sex tonight. Maybe. 

Lydia whacks him over the head and Derek snaps his teeth at her. Maybe not. It’s group poker night, after all. “Get your order ready,” she tells him. “I don’t want to wait any more than I have to.” 

The waiter comes and Lydia flirts with him. The moment her eyes are off the two of them Stiles’s legs swings over Derek’s. Derek freezes; Stiles is halfway in his lap. Stiles adjusts himself a little more, his ass seated directly on Derek’s right thigh. He gives a sweet long rub of his groin down Derek’s leg. 

Derek grabs Stiles’s side tightly, enough to bruise the skin underneath, and demands to have whatever Liam just ordered despite not knowing what it is. 

Stiles asks for something big and thick and juicy, and Scott gives him that look again, the same one he gave on the movie night. Stiles shrugs. “Where’s Malia?” he asks, and Lydia sighs. 

“Something to do with Dessert Wolf,” Scott pipes up. 

“Desert Wolf,” Lydia corrects automatically, looking at the wine list. “She’s killing all of Desert Wolf’s old contacts. She’ll be back in town in a couple of weeks.” 

“Cool,” Stiles answers, shifting just a little bit, rocking his weight towards Derek’s inner leg. Derek shifts up and brushes his hard-on against Stiles’s hip, watching how Stiles’s eyes flutter and how his breath catches in his throat. 

Scott is glaring at them again, and Liam is trying to convince Kira to trade him places. 

“Knock it off, Stiles,” Lydia says, texting someone on her phone. “Be straightforward about it.”

“Shut up, Lydia,” Stiles says quickly. 

It doesn’t take long for their appetizers to come. While the others are reaching for mozzarella sticks, Stiles carefully slips something plastic into Derek’s hand. Derek gazes at it underneath the table. 

The remote. 

Derek forgets to breathe. He’s not sure what the remote _does_ , exactly, but it’ll make Stiles rub up against his leg so sweetly, make him come in front of everybody. Stiles has just given him control over his sexual pleasure and Derek can’t even figure out what it is or how it works. 

But damn if he isn’t going to use it. 

Stiles shifts again, and this time Derek carefully places the bone of his right leg between Stiles’s butt cheeks, spreading his crotch a wide enough that Derek can feel everything. Stiles swallows, a maddening vision of nerves and arousal and anticipation-

-Scott bangs on the table. 

“Kira asked you a question, Derek,” he says. His eyes are still on Stiles.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says to Kira, who smiles at him. 

It’s a knowing smile, like she’s amused by what’s going on. “I asked if you wanted to trade places, Derek,” she repeats. “Since Stiles is practically on your lap.” 

Derek bounces his right leg ever so slightly, noting how Stiles tenses on top of him. “It’s fine,” he says. “He’s not quite in my lap, anyway.” 

Stiles opens his mouth to add something, but Derek bounces his leg again, slowly raising up and forward. Stiles shuts his mouth and takes a sudden interest in Lydia’s phone. 

“If you’re sure,” Kira says. 

His hand is still on the remote, wondering for the best moment to strike. “Thanks,” Derek replies. His hand slides a little over Stiles’s skin. 

So far the sex thing hasn’t happened. Stiles isn’t responding to him, isn’t rolling his hips along his leg, so it has to be related to the remote. But he’s not sure what exactly brings it on. 

The waiter comes by with their food. Derek’s thumb hovers over the “on” button, waiting until the waiter sets a plate in front of Stiles. 

He hits the button. 

Stiles jerks a little but covers it well, pretending to have burned himself on the plate. Derek can feel trembling and vibrations, but he can’t figure out _why_. He hits the track button and looks at his own food. 

It’s shrimp. He hates shrimp. Maybe he’ll let Liam eat it.

Slowly, Stiles starts rolling back and forth on Derek’s leg. It’s very subtle, not much movement at all. Derek understands- if he moved like he had in Derek’s apartment, everyone at the table would know. He pokes at his food, wondering what Stiles might feel like on his leg _without_ the jeans that separate their skin.

Lydia asks Stiles something, but all Derek can focus on is the fact that Stiles is getting _off_ on him. Using Derek. Derek wants to take Stiles and fuck him deep right on the table, and if Stiles is grinding against him, Stiles can’t be adverse to something like that, either. 

Liam steals a bite of his shrimp. Derek passes the plate over to him and takes a drink. “How’s your food, Stiles? Is it _satisfying_?” 

Stiles throws him a dirty look, taking one long and hard movement on Derek’s leg. Derek wants to growl, but it might draw attention. Instead he listens to Liam blather on as under the table he brings Stiles’s hand to his dick. Long fingers explore his hardness, feeling him up and down. 

Stiles’s face is priceless. It’s not smug, just surprise. Stiles quickly moves his hand away, watching Lydia and Scott and Kira and Liam talk about something stupid. 

Derek turns up the volume, and Stiles’s breath gets choppy. 

“Something wrong?” Scott asks, his eyes narrowing and for the first time Derek realizes his alpha senses kicking in. Shit. Derek had completely forgotten about that. Scott probably has known this entire meal what’s going on. Derek looks away, at Liam, who doesn’t quite understand but understands a guilty look when he sees one.

“Stiles,” Lydia snaps. “You boys finish up here and get to poker night. Stiles, you come with me.” 

Stiles stays still, his eyes pleading with Lydia. “I-“

“It’ll take me a second to move,” Derek informs her. “My legs are too long.” Liam gets out from the table and Derek takes his time, giving Stiles back the remote as he buys time for Stiles’s boner to go down.

Lydia glares at him, but the thankful look from Stiles is worth it.

 

***

 

Poker night was Scott’s idea. The pack was terrible at communication, a huge asshole and competitive streak between them. Poker seemed like the best way to bond, usually after they had all settled from a good dinner. Plus Derek was loaded _and_ normally a shitty player, according to Scott, so it was a free way to gain money. 

Derek just liked providing for the pack. He didn’t have the heart to tell Scott he was losing on purpose, knowing how much college was costing the Alpha.

Scott won another round, greedily taking all the chips from the table. Liam raised an eyebrow at Derek like he knew what Derek was doing but Derek shrugged and faked innocence. It was as Derek shrugged that Scott’s phone beeped. The true alpha looked at the phone and groaned. “I have to call it an early night,” he complained. “Got chemistry in the morning.” He looked at Liam, who grumbled something about also having a class. The two of them got up and headed out, leaving Derek to clean up his mess. 

Lydia and Stiles still hadn’t shown up. Derek couldn’t help but feel the disappointment. 

As Derek pus away the sodas, a knock rings from the door throughout his loft. There are no doubts as to who it might be. 

He drops the sodas and practically runs to the door and flings it open.

Stiles quickly came in, looking around. “I missed them, huh?” he asks out loud, but Derek only shrugs and pretends he hasn’t been excited for Stiles to show up.

“We can play a couple rounds, if you want,” he offers. He tries not to think about images of Stiles naked on his lap, or sexual favors coming into the mix. 

“Nah. I don’t have any money,” Stiles continues, and Derek’s cock jumps a little at the thought. There is something in the tone of Stiles’s voice, something sultry and seductive, something that hints Derek will be seeing more of Stiles’s strange and yet sexy behaviors tonight.

“I’m up for something else,” Derek informs Stiles, hoping he comes off as cool and uninterested. Stiles raises an eyebrow, his mind calculating. 

Derek nearly cheers when Stiles agrees. “All right. Sit down,” Stiles orders, taking a stack of cards from the deck. Derek nearly trips over to the sofa, watching as Stiles carefully saunters over to him, keeping his thighs apart like something was between them. Derek swallows, wondering if Stiles walks that way after getting fucked. 

“Are you going to explain what’s been going on with you?” Derek asks curtly. 

“See, that’s your problem. You have no sense of foreplay,” Stiles remarks, sitting directly on Derek’s lap. He adjusts himself, squeezing his legs around Derek’s thighs, making sure he’s secure. Derek hopes for a moment Stiles doesn’t notice his hard-on, but it’s hard to imagine Stiles was hoping for any other reaction. 

Stiles smirks as if he knows exactly what Derek’s thinking. Then he answers Derek’s question. “I will,” Stiles murmurs, voice low and husky with promise. It makes the hairs on Derek’s neck stand on end. It makes Derek’s breath catch in his throat. “Game.” Stiles holds out the cards and the remote. “Ace: you get an order.” 

Derek nods, already thinking of the pretty orders he _wants_ to ask and forms instead the orders he _should_ ask. “Face-card: You get a question.” Stiles breathes in, nervous. 

Derek settles his hands on Stiles’s hips, hoping to steady him. Stiles looks at the cards and for a moment, his gaze flickers up to Derek, eyes almost shy but determined, and Derek _understands_. He knows what will happen tonight. He knows that he’ll watch Stiles underneath him, that all this tension is going to explode within hours. It makes him excited, makes his blood boil. He’s finally going to _have_ Stiles.

He pushes Stiles closer to him, his dick rubbing up against Stiles’s half-hard one. It gives a twitch against the fabric as its owner inhales a shuddery breath. “Yeah, Lydia’s right. I should have been a lot more straightforward.” Stiles presses into Derek, his weight leaning forward, his lips parted.

No. Oh no. Derek isn’t _that_ weak. 

Derek holds his hips steady, forcing Stiles back to where he sat originally. “The game.” Derek demands. “If I had to wait this long, you can wait a little longer.” 

The flush that spreads across Stiles’s face is delectable, but he doesn’t move to do anything. Not when he knows Stiles is his, when Stiles came to him willingly and flashed his eyes like that. “Okay,” Stiles barely breathes. “Okay.” He holds up the deck. “Then numbers… control the remote. Black for this side, red for this side.” 

Derek nods, taking the cards and placing them on an easy-to-reach end table. Stiles shifts, adjusting himself on Derek’s lap. He hands Derek the remote and braces himself on Derek’s chest. “Go ahead and get started, big guy.”

The first card is a two of clubs. Boring. Derek hits the remote. He feels the moment Stiles springs to life, hips gently moving front and back. “Ah, that feels good,” Stiles breathes, his eyes keeping locked into Derek’s. It’s a giddy feeling, knowing that he’s making Stiles feel good, that he is making -and has made- Stiles come, has pushed Stiles over the brink of orgasm and he doesn’t even know _how_. 

The next card is a seven of diamonds. Derek carefully presses the buttons on the right side, watching as Stiles’s lips tremble slightly, the way his hands tighten in Derek’s shirt. If his hips are jutting forward, Derek can’t tell. 

“That’s a good setting,” Stiles murmurs, licking his lips. For a moment, he looks like he’s in pain, and he adjusts himself in Derek’s lap. “Ok. Next one.” 

Derek has a feeling, more than a feeling he knows what’s going on now. “Jack,” he replies, not letting Stiles look at the card. Stiles doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes half-hooded and body shaking. 

“What’s in your ass?” Derek asks. 

“Vibrator,” Stiles utters. “Wireless.” He gasps as Derek increases the speed, his hips rocking back and forth, stuck between the toy inside him and the friction from Derek’s abs. Derek shifts side to side, trying to adjust for room in his pants. “Feels so _good_ ,” Stiles breathes against Derek’s neck, hot little puffs of air that only serve to tighten Derek’s gut. 

Derek adjusts the pattern setting, and this time Stiles’s hips go up, repeatedly, as if trying to move _away_ from that vibrator inside of him. “What’s it doing?” Derek whispers in Stiles’s ear, watching as the human shivers and then jerks again, his back arching so prettily. Derek sets the cards down, moving his hands to rest on Stiles’s lower back, hoping to help Stiles balance. 

“It’s-“ Stiles gives a quick pant of air, trying to clear his head. “It’s a quick buzz. It gets really low, and then really high-“ Stiles’s voice breaks off, his hands reaching for the remote. “I’m not gonna be able to last if you keep this up.” 

“Good,” Derek remarks, reaching over to the remote and hitting the speed at it’s highest. Stiles glares at him and he fumbles for the remote, hands moving to Derek’s shoulders and Derek presses his body flush against his, feeling Stiles’s cock through his pants. The human’s hips are gyrating against that delicious piece of plastic inside of him, chasing that feeling, trying to press it in. All the while his front is demanding for more attention from his cock, grinding against Derek, sometimes on purpose and sometimes just an after-effect of Stiles trying to adjust the vibe inside him.

Stiles’s head is cradled against Derek’s shoulder, his skin hot and maddening. His weight is firmly against Derek now. Stiles is too far lost to pleasure to even hold himself up, hips making aborted thrusts, unsure of which path to take- rubbing his dick against Derek’s abs or grinding down on that fake cock. 

Easily Derek’s hands slip underneath Stiles’s shirt, feeling his muscles underneath his skin and trying to pull Stiles closer to him. “D-Derek,” Stiles breathe against Derek’s neck, his hands finally touching the remote and turning the thing off. His body shudders and he breathes in and out, clinging to some control. 

Derek remains silent. If he speaks, Stiles will know he’s pouting. He wanted to feel Stiles come.

“So I wanna feel your dick,” Stiles utters quickly, as if Derek might say no, as if there was a chance in hell Derek might refuse. His erection is still pressing into Derek’s stomach, a sweet siren reminding Derek that the night isn’t over. 

There won’t be any refusal on Derek’s part.

“Only if I can take you to the bed,” Derek replies. Stiles’s breath against his torso stutters a bit and Stiles squirms as Derek’s hands move upwards to his shoulders, the shirt dragging upward and exposing his soft skin. 

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles agrees all too quickly. Derek drops his hands to Stiles’s hips and lifts him up, still strong even as a human. Stiles grabs his shoulders tightly. “Very manly of you,” he comments, letting out a breath when Derek drops him onto the bed. 

Derek doesn’t bother to respond, pulling off Stiles’s shirt and taking in the younger man’s skin. Stiles is pale and the skin is unmarred. Derek runs a finger down Stiles’s chest, feeling muscles contract as Stiles takes a steady inhale of air. 

“Straightforward was the best way,” Stiles says to himself. “Shirt off, Derek.” 

Derek doesn’t listen. Instead he clambers onto the bed, pinning Stiles beneath his limbs, feeling the other man struggle for a moment. Slowly he leans down, capturing Stiles’s mouth in a kiss. 

Stiles responds, something akin to “fuck yes” escaping his mouth. While Derek bites his lower lip, Stiles’s legs are scrambling along the bed, trying to wrap themselves around Derek’s frame. Surging his body forward, Derek listens to how Stiles gasps beneath him, how his breath catches. Stiles’s arms are trying to push himself up, trying to press their bodies even closer as Derek moves to biting sloppily against Stiles’s jaw and leaving little marks, just enough for anyone else to know Stiles was claimed.

“Derek,” Stiles breathes, and Derek growls a response, rolling his hips down into Stiles as a reward for saying his name so prettily. His mouth manages to get on Stiles’s left ear before Stiles breathes again. “Derek, wanna ride you.” 

The confession makes Derek’s insides sear with lust. Derek sits up immediately and scans over Stiles’s prettily begging face, the one that’s currently covered in Derek’s bite marks and spit. Stiles’s knees cradle him as he drinks the sight of Stiles in, pride swelling in his chest of how wrecked Stiles looks right now. He nods his agreement, sitting back and undoing his fly. 

Stiles has the audacity to lick his lips, propping himself a little higher on his elbows. 

For a moment, Derek is unsure if Stiles is going to try and fit Derek’s dick _and_ the vibe up his ass, but Stiles quickly unveils his own fly, dropping his pants and briefs and pulling on a string, letting the vibe flop on to the floor. Derek watches keenly, taking in the black shape. 

His dick is bigger. It twitches in his pants, knowing that though Stiles has been fucking himself on that black thing he’ll be tight and warm, squeezing Derek’s dick for every last drop of his come. 

“Wanna show me yours?” Stiles teases. Derek realizes he hasn’t even gotten a good look at Stiles’s dick. So he does; takes a moment to drink in the sight. Cocks are never pretty things, but Derek likes what he sees. It’s hard and leaking, dribbles of precome dripping down it’s length where his balls hang. 

As he stares unabashedly he sits up, stripping himself of his own clothing restrictions. “Lube’s in that drawer,” he informs Stiles, throwing his pants to the side as Stiles crawls back on the bed, over him. Derek watches with keen eyes as Stiles takes Derek’s balls in his hand, weighing them. 

“How’d you get such huge balls, dude?” Stiles asks, marveling at them. Preening, Derek’s about to answer when suddenly Stiles’s mouth is on them, taking them in as much as he can. Derek falls back on the bed and spreads his legs a little wider, giving Stiles more access to his balls. It’s worth it, the way Stiles licks and nibbles and _worships_ them. 

“Stiles,” Derek breathes, and Stiles looks up for a moment, part of his face hidden behind Derek’s upright cock, and he grins. 

“That’s what I want to hear,” he says, reaching a lube-filled hand and coating Derek’s shaft in the stuff. “One day these suckers are going to slap against my ass, you hear? It’s going to be like getting spanked and fucked all at once.” 

Those sorts of words are things _Derek_ should be saying, but he can’t find himself to disagree with them. Instead he readily consents, filing that fantasy away for the future. Right now Stiles’s foot has come forward on the bed next to Derek’s hip, a clear sign of what’s about to happen. 

“Think you deserve it,” Derek hisses as Stiles slowly adjusts himself. His cock twitches in Stiles’s grip, lining up to a hole Derek has yet to see. “Only a _bad_ boy would put a vibe in his ass, moving himself around like he wanted to get fucked.” 

Stiles gives a slight laugh as he lines up their bodies, Derek’s cock pressing tantalizingly against his hole. Derek swallows, trying to keep his hips from jutting upwards, trying to keep from grabbing Stiles’s hips and slamming him down. “Yeah. Thought’d it be as close as I could get to this,” he breathed, pressing in just a little. 

Stiles is tight and hot and slick and it’s _not enough_. Derek needs more. He whimpers, his hips flexing just a little, trying to dive deeper into that heat. Stiles rides each flex with ease. When Derek finally gives up and settles down with a whine in his throat, Stiles sinks down another inch as a reward. 

“Christ you’re big,” he utters, his mouth making such a pretty shape. It’s the same “o” Derek had seen as they watched the movie all those nights ago.

Derek can’t think enough to bring himself to plead for more. He’s trapped in a cloud of want and heat, stuck as Stiles slowly, maddeningly sinks down on top of him, slick ass squeezing against his cock. There’s no resistance. Stiles’s greedy body sucks him in whole, down to the very base. 

“Did you like it?” Stiles asks him, not moving. “Watching me move?” He grinds back against Derek, and from this position Derek knows it’s exactly how he saw Stiles move against his vibe. Stiles moves sweetly around, stretching out his hole as his hips move, occasionally stuttering and grinding Derek’s dick against a bundle of nerves inside of him. 

It’s taking every inch of Derek’s willpower not to flip them over, to lay back and take this. 

“Pictured you like this,” Derek admits, eyes flickering away from where Stiles keeps rubbing his cock against Derek’s walls, where his balls drag against Derek’s pubic hairs in a strange but heated caress. Stiles looks up at him with pupils blown wide, as if he’s barely hanging on to sanity.

The flush has traveled down to Stiles’s entire body now, covered with a sheen of sweat. Stiles lifts up slowly, and Derek nearly whines at the cold air that encases his dick. Stiles groans as he sits back down, slowly dragging himself so Derek’s cock _drags_ against that spot inside of him. Outside, his dick is twitching. 

His control is impressive.

“Stiles,” he breathes, begs. He’s not sure how to even form words right now but Stiles’s name comes easily to his tongue. Stiles seems to know what he’s doing, smiling coyly and taking Derek’s hands on his hips, moving up and sliding back down again. 

“Thaaaat’s the spot, Derek,” he informs before going limp. 

It’s all Derek needs. 

He practically jackrabbits into Stiles’s hole, angry, brutal thrusts as his hands force Stiles down on him. He pounds into that sweet ass engulfing him. When he pulls away it’s too _cold_ , not enough, and he hammers back inside, his hands guiding the body to press against that sweet area Stiles showed him. The human has his hands on Derek’s wrists, chest heaving and his head thrown back, exposing that beautiful length of neck. 

Derek sits up and flips them over, Stiles on his back. As his hips continue to thrust his mouth finds his way against Stiles’s neck, sucking and marking up the man for all he was worth.

The body beneath him twitches, muscles seizing. Stiles murmurs, “Oh, _oh_ , Derek _, yes_ ” before Derek can feel the hot liquid spurt against his abs. Stiles’s face is the same as always- blissed out, relaxed, but this time as Derek continues to pound he slows down his thrusts to a crawl, enjoying how Stiles nearly trembles from oversensitivity when he comes back in. 

“Derek,” Stiles whines. Derek smirks, leaning down against Stiles’s mouth. His balls are starting to tighten; he knows he won’t last long. 

“Wanna come on you,” Derek whispers. “On your skin, mix our scents together.” He won’t be able to smell it as well now that he’s a human. The instinct is there all the same. 

Stiles wraps his arms around him and shudders as Derek presses against his prostate languidly, milking him for all he’s worth. “Wanna feel you come inside me,” Stiles admits. “Just this once.” 

“Next time?” Derek asks, halting his movement. 

Stiles whimpers, still too sensitive. He tries to move away, but Derek holds him down, keeps him locked into an overload of pleasure. “Next time you can bathe me in it, Derek, jut want to feel you-“

With a few more movements, he comes into Stiles’s ass, drenching Stiles’s hole in his come. Eyes flicker over to Stiles’s face and he realizes Stiles has been watching him this entire time, something bewitching across the other man’s expression. Derek swallows, moving down and licks the top of Stiles’s lip as he pulls out and collapses on top of the human. 

“Next time,” Derek demands.

Stiles wraps his arms around the larger man. “Definitely.”

**Author's Note:**

> A quick safety warning: 
> 
> Don’t put vibes like the one in this story in your butt. Only use toys with a flared base, because your butt has suction and will keep things inside of it if it can. It’s cool to play with your butt, but please do so safely.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you liked the story! I'm on tumblr at deltaimmortal.tumblr.com


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